Zev joined him and worked alongside him.
'I'm very cold, Satoshi. You look cold too.'
'I'm all right,' Satoshi said, but his teeth chattered.
'I think we should go inside and warm up.'
'In a while,' Satoshi said stubbornly. 'You go ahead. I want to do a little more.'
Zev followed, unwilling to leave Satoshi out alone in the snow. He wondered if hypothermia was less serious on land than in the sea. He doubted it, and he thought Satoshi was right on the edge.
They walked through a stand of young lilac bushes, knocking away the icy blanket to release the bright green leaves, the heavy purple and white blossoms, and the disorienting fragrance of lilacs in the snow.
'Infinity said not to stay out too long.' Zev did not like to argue with someone older than himself. Among the divers, it was very bad manners. But this was different. Hypothermia caused confusion in the wisest, most experienced person.
'We haven't been out that long,' Satoshi said.
'You're shivering.'
'Do you want all the plants to die?' Satoshi spoke more sharply than Zev had ever heard him.
'No, but I don't want you to die either.'
'I'm not going to die.'
'Do You hear something?' Zev stopped. Before Satoshi could answer, Zev plunged between two bushes that showered him with snow and wilted lilac flowerets.
In a clearing in the middle of the lilac grove, Chandra stood naked, arms spread wide, gazing up into the clouded sky. The chattering of her teeth had attracted Zev's attention. Her clothes lay in a sodden pile, ice crystals forming on the folds.
'Chandra!'
She lowered her head and looked at him with her strange, blank-gray eyes, but she did not answer him. Her fingers were blue with cold. Swollen nerve clusters twisted and bulged all over her body and her face and her hands. 'How long have you been out here?'
Satoshi followed Zev into the clearing.
'What's the matter with her?'
Chandra tried to reply to Zev, but her teeth chattered so hard she could not speak.
'I think she's collecting an experience,' Zev said. 'But I think we should get her inside.'
'What about the trees?' Satoshi looked around at all the lilacs bent over and crushed in the snow. 'I feel sorry for the little trees.'
Stephen Thomas heard the flutter and snort of horsy breath, and the muffled beat of hooves. The herd of miniature horses broke from the edge of the forest. They plunged through the meadow, spraying snow, lithe animal shapes, brown and chestnut and gold against the stark landscape. Squealing, they galloped and plunged through snow up to their chests, toward a person standing uncertainly in the meadow.
It was Florrie Brown. Morrie was the last person Stephen Thomas wanted to see, this side of Fox.
Stephen Thomas wished he could vanish into the orchard, but he was taller than most of the young trees.
The herd exploded past Morrie, wheeled around, and galloped toward her again. She never moved, but wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her fringed black poncho tight. She flinched when the horses crowded her. Stephen Thomas wondered why she was so frightened. She often sat on her front porch, feeding tidbits to the miniature horses. Sometimes they climbed up on the porch beside her.
He crossed the field, kicking away the snow. It caked on the legs of his pants.
'Go on, shoo!' he shouted.
The appaloosa stud flung up his head, nostrils flaring. Stephen Thomas's scent spooked him. He squealed and kicked and plunged away, and the whole herd vanished into the evergreens.
Florrie stood shaking among the hoofprints.
'Did you have to scare them?' she said. 'I thought they'd knock me over.'
He stopped.
'I thought you wanted them gone,' he said.
She looked back across the field, toward her house fifty meters distant. 'It's so slippery out here, I was afraid I'd fall.'
'Why'd you come out, then?'
'I'm going to work, of course. To the cafeteria. People still have to eat.' She squinted at him, peering up into his face. 'Are you Stephen Thomas?'
'Of course I am,' he said, startled.
'You look so different. I didn't recognize you.'
'I don't look that different,' he said. Not where she could see him. 'Do you need some help, or do you want me to disappear again?'
'I'm afraid to fall,' she said.
Stephen Thomas took this as one of her roundabout ways of getting something without coming right out and asking for it. He could hardly leave her out here in the field. He offered her his arm.
'I'll walk over with you,' he said.
She hesitated, then grasped his elbow with both hands. They walked in silence for a while.
'You shouldn't have teased us,' she said. 'Me and Fox.'
'Teased you!'
'Flirted with us. Without meaning anything.'
'I never flirt unless I mean it. I never flirted with Fox at all. Did she say I did?'
'She said . . . she fell in love with you. But you hurt her feelings, and I thought you planned to hurt mine.'
'Thanks a lot.' He glanced down at her. 'So you decided I'm a malicious shithead.'
'What was I supposed to decide?'
'I'm glad to know the depths of our friendship,' Stephen Thomas said bitterly.
'I thought you liked me!' Florrie said.
'I thought the feeling was mutual,' Stephen Thomas said. 'Why did you change your mind?'
'I told you. I thought you didn't mean any of it.'
'Why didn't you ask me, instead of lighting into me like that?'
'Because I was angry. For Fox. But now you're mad at me. And so is she.' Stephen Thomas sighed.
They approached the cafeteria. The silver slugs had partially cleared the path, but had not got all the way down to the rock foam. The beaten snow had turned to ice, with a treacherous texture of frozen ripples. Someone should have scraped the path, but there was probably not a snow shovel to be had on board Starfarer.
Stephen Thomas walked carefully. Florrie grabbed tight to his arm. If he slipped and went down, she would fall, too.
'Aren't you?' she said. 'Mad at me.'
'I wish you'd had enough regard for my friendship to get my side of what happened,' he said.
They reached the porch of the cafeteria. Stephen Thomas helped her up the ramp, over the threshold. Here the floor was merely wet and slick, not icy. Warmth and the aroma of herbs and hot pepper, cooking food, surrounded him. His stomach growled. He was famished. He could hardly remember when he had eaten last, and he could not think when he had been so hungry. He could even imagine diving into the lake and coming up with a fish to eat raw, as Zev had done the other day.
Cold as he was, the idea of diving into a chilly lake gave him a thrill of pleasure.
'So that's all it was,' Florrie said, her voice cutting and sarcastic. 'Just friendship. How very flattering.'
Stephen Thomas glanced at her, surprised and confused. Friendship was an important word to him, one he did not take lightly or offer easily. He had had fewer close friends than lovers in his life.
'It could have been friendship,' he said.
Florrie drew herself up angrily. 'Then you never were serious.'
When she took on that imperious tone, Stephen Thomas found it even easier than usual to see beyond the changes of age and the papery delicacy of her skin, even past the character time had given her. The stunning
